"Where is it? I know you have whiskey in here. I can smell it," said a thick Dutch accent he knew all too well.
House looked up in shock. "Oma… er how nice to see you. This is my boss Doctor Cuddy and these are my… no there is nothing in there," he added hurriedly as the old woman made a beeline through the conference room to House's office. Cuddy pointed in mute astonishment then followed her along with everyone else.
House tried to get up, fumbling with his cane and knocking it over in the rush. By the time he had made it to his office the old lady had found the bourbon bottle he kept in his locked? drawer for emergencies and had upended it.
They watched in amazement as Oma drained it dry then belched. "Much better," she muttered.
Cuddy turned to House. "A relative of yours I presume?"
House sighed. "Everyone this is my grandmother on my mother's side. Oma, this is everyone."
At that moment Wilson burst in. "Did I just see your… oh hello Mrs Berman. It is lovely to see you again," he said in squeaky voice.
"Jimmy," said the old lady, coming forward and giving him a kiss on both cheeks. "Are you getting any these days or have you plowed through all the women in America.
"Not married at the moment Mrs Berman," strangled Wilson, turning bright red.
"But are you raising the Jewish spirit? This is what I ask. You should come to Bruxelles for the frites... if you know what I mean," she said with a laugh as she elbowed Wilson, who looked at House in alarm with a look that said 'she'll be unzipping my trousers next'.
"His Jadishness is spirited enough Oma and doesn't need a helping hand," intercepted House quickly. "Where's Pops II?"
"What's a Pops the Second," whispered Foreman to Cuddy?
"Long suffering," said Wilson. Oma waved a hand at House. "I don't know. Maybe I left him in the car with the window open a crack."
"Do not worry Little Cassa, I'm sure he has figured out the child lock by now."
House gave her a dirty look.
"All right, he is in the lobby. But come Gregorinsky. We will go to the nearest café, you will tell me in great detail of your sexual prowess and we will drink Absinthe until we fall over." She eyed the cane. "Although in your case: that might be sooner than me."
Then Oma frowned. "That cane. I do not like. It is not ostentatious enough for one royal born."
"Oma, I am not royal born and it's got flames," House weakly argued. He looked totally overwhelmed.
"Bah! You are to me so I will have to buy you a hat to make up for your lack of propriety in canes." She grabbed House's arm and began to pull him to the door.
"She's tiny," whispered Cuddy to Wilson.
"I heard that Jimmy," said Oma over her shoulder.
Wilson smiled sheepishly and waved stupidly. "Bye Missus Berman."
But Oma didn't seem to have taken offence. "I love you too Jimmy. Come Petite Maison, I know of a nice place that does excellent brote." She waved her arms, German… but what can you do in New Jersey - PAH? The Germans make excellent bread products. We Dutch are renowned for our paintings, the French know wine and the Germans do bread well," she said. She gave Chase a very dirty look. "Unlike you Americans and your sugary bread products that no self respecting liver loving person should ever put inside of them."
"I'm Australian," muttered Chase.
The old lady looked taken aback. She stopped. "I do apologise… and the Australians do excellent meat pies and your football men wear very tight shorts." She turned to House and mock whispered. "Their pies are not as good as the Polacks, but it is such a sweet little country and their footballers are men of great stamina. That grand final of 1974 was a night to remember. Of course I wasn't married to your Pops II then my Little Wonder Doctor of Nasty Blood Sucking Diseases. That was two years after your Pops I - God bless him - died in that oh so tragic accident in Amsterdam. Business trips in Amsterdam can be so dangerous." She lead House away with a contented smile. Chase looked gobsmacked.
As the two left House's office he gave Wilson a pleading look over his shoulder, but he just shook his head and waved his arms frantically.
They entered the hallway and they all heard. "So Gregorinsky. Your boss: she is firm... and why are not you shaved?" She thwaped him around the back of his head. "And tuck your shirt in."
Foreman and Cameron exchanged glances. "Well that explains some of it I suppose," said Cameron questioningly.
"Some of it," said Foreman!
"But what was the hat thing?" asked Cuddy.
Wilson shrugged. "She has a thing about hats. Every time you ask her she just mutters something about Paris and drinks all the sherry."
There was a pause.
"And then the gin."